


Take Me to Your River (A Waltz in Three Parts)

by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Day Trip 2.0, Emotions, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Nights, New Planet, That's it, and these tits, because this was planned before it started, except feelings, not much happpens, post season-5, seriously, this doesn't acknowledge season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky/pseuds/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
Summary: After the events on the Ground, Clarke and Bellamy no longer feel like the team they once were. They’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit, languages with no connection, and worlds with no peace. So when they venture out into the new planet to scout before waking everyone up, they have an opportunity to relearn who they are after all the time apart, discovering the people they’ve become.Except when they stumble across an abandoned mansion in the woods from a distant piano, they discover this world has hidden traps that Earth never had. Now they’ll have to survive their own ghosts. Except what will they do when the real ghosts are each other?The Day Trip 2.0 fic no one asked for.





	Take Me to Your River (A Waltz in Three Parts)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves!
> 
> Happy Big Bang!
> 
> FIRSTLY PLEASE EVERYONE GIVE LOVE TO MY AMAZING ARTIST @eastwesthomeisbest. SO AMAZING, I’ve loved working with you, your talent is just incredible. I hope you know how talented you are <3 <3 <3
> 
> A few notes about this piece – this idea / summary was written before any of S6 aired, so it has nothing to do with what’s been going on in the actual show. I wanted my Big Bang to be a quieter piece, focusing almost solely on Clarke and Bellamy as they relearned who they are as a team after what happened on Earth.
> 
> Along with being deeply inspired to be a Day Trip 2.0, this piece is also the product of 2 musical pieces. 1) River, by Leon Bridges, which is my go-to Bellarke song that makes me feel all the things and I highly recommend giving it a listen. 2) I am such a ho for the ‘this song is playing in a different room’ playlists, and the meat of this story (paralleling the hallucinations from Day Trip) is inspired by one regarding an abandoned mansion where a ghost waltz is taking place. That connection will be revealed pretty quick! As an aside for context, there isn’t B/cho in this fic. 
> 
> I hope you guys are ready for a fic about emotions, feelings, talking about everything that happened on earth, and a Day Trip 2.0 fic literally no one asked for. Much love!
> 
> Author Note Amendment: This is hilarious in hindsight, now that the show had 6x09 with Josephine and Bellamy, seeing as it was plotted months ago. Oh the turntables.

TAKE ME TO YOUR RIVER ( _A Waltz in Three Parts)_

_By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky_

When the world started, atoms split.

Perhaps that’s why they were as cursed as they were. From the beginning, the expectation has been set. The world expanded and grew apart, extending to places that didn’t exist, creating space that never was discovered. It grew and grew, separating and separating until… it stopped.

The Universe set the expectation. It sprinkled everything in stardust and separated them from each other. People made of stardust are meant to separate. It was set in the Universe.

Clarke tells herself this when she tries to push her thoughts from the front of her mind, focusing on the small pads of noise coming from her footsteps as she moves throughout the Eligius ship. Running her fingers along the metal, she grounds herself in the coldness. A shiver runs up her spine as she wonders how she got back here. In space. The one place she wanted to leave the most.

The ship is a graveyard.

Sure, everyone is still frozen. Jordan is showing Bellamy how Monty managed to find the planet and walk through how he’ll steer them home. Clarke can’t bring herself to talk about Monty, so she explores instead. She explores the ship the carried the people who invaded the valley. The people who made her resort to violence again, when all she wanted was nothing more than to wipe her hands clean of the red.

It's silly, but a part of her is afraid to wake everyone up. Afraid to face all the people she used to fight for, and then was forced to fight against. How was it supposed to work? Were they supposed to pretend nothing happened? Cryosleep can’t wipe away the blood of war, just as one hug can’t erase six years of distance.

Clarke wraps her arms around herself at that thought. If she pretends enough, she can feel his fingers ghost on her skin as if he was there. Before… everything.

“Getting lost?”

Clarke startles at the noise, seeing Bellamy leaning up against a doorway she had just walked through. “I figure I can’t get lost for too long,” she answers. “There’s not a ton of places to go.”

“I’d find you.” Bellamy states with a smirk, but there’s something hollow within his words. A distant promise that he may have made to himself, maybe blaming himself for not answering the call every single time. “Unless you didn’t want to be found. If you don’t want to be found, no one can find you.”

Clarke knows he’s right, despite the fact that the emptiness in his words makes her chest ache. “Maybe not here. I don’t think even I could hide on this ship.”

The two start to stroll around the quiet vessel. Though, to Clarke it isn’t silent. There are more than just the sounds of their feet across the floor. The ship is filled with the noise of the words they haven’t said, the words they _need_ to say. They pile up until they’re a mountain that Atlas would never climb.

“Can I share a secret?” Clarke asks, fueled by the need to stop the voices from telling her all her crimes.

Bellamy perks up at that, as if her secrets are worth more than any sort of currency there was.

“I was always afraid to come back up here.” She states, hesitating at the window revealing the planet that Monty fought so hard to find for them. “Even before we were separated. It was all about survival and making sure we made it alive, but I never wanted to come back here.”

Her hands graze against the window glass as she looks at the planet that has mesmerized her for the past day. “I never wanted to come back to space.” She whispers.

Bellamy moves next to her, gazing at the world below. “Me too.” He murmurs, as if it’s a secret just for her. “I don’t have the best memories in space.”

Clarke peers at him. “How can that be? You had six years of peace in space.”

Bellamy lets out a laugh. “Sure, we had that. We had times of peace that I never thought possible. But there were other things that happened up there. Times I wouldn’t want to relive.”

Clarke isn’t stupid, she understands the implication. Unsure of what to say, she reaches out and touches his arm, which he stares at, clearly at a loss himself.

They don’t fit anymore. They once did. He was her complement in every way, but somehow they brought out the best in each other. Now? Now he was a language she didn’t speak, a world she didn’t know. Oh, how she desperately wanted to know.

She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to, though. She made choices that she couldn’t take back, and he suffered consequences that she couldn’t undo. He was foreign, beautiful, and above any star she could reach. He was this new Universe: stunning and terrifying.

It’s that moment when she realizes she’s been standing next to him for quite some time with her hand on his, so she takes a step back and runs her hands through her hair. “Well, I won’t make you.”

Bellamy peers at her curiously, opening his mouth as if he’s going to tell her anyway. Like he wants to tell her, to tell her everything that happened on the ring all those years. She sucks in a breath, getting ready to hear what he has to say when—

“There you guys are!” Jordan exclaims, rounding the corner of the ship’s hallway. Clarke finds herself taking a step away from him when it happens, shaking the feeling like for a small moment, they were by themselves in the world. “Have you decided what you want to do? Do you want to wake everyone up? I really want to meet Murphy and see if he’s like what Mom and Dad said. Do you think he’ll be?”

Bellamy chuckles uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice, he’s too busy beaming at the two of them. “Perhaps we shouldn’t wake everyone up quite yet,” Clarke says carefully, gazing up to Bellamy. He’s surprised by this, just noting another sign that they’re not entirely in sync. He doesn’t retort, but merely lifts his eyebrows and waits. “We don’t know what kind of planet we’re stepping into. We don’t know if the air is toxic or if we’ll be able to survive any of it. We should scout – figure something out – so we have some answers as to what we’ll do when we wake everyone up. No reason to scare anyone before we have all the facts.

Jordan’s face falls, but Bellamy ponders this. “It’s not a bad idea. Clarke and I can scout the general area and you can keep the ship in tact until we get back.”

“Wait, I’m not coming?” Jordan asks, his face twisting into frustration. “I’ve lived on this ship my entire life – I want to go out with you guys.”

“Exactly why you should stay here, Jordan.” Bellamy says. “You know how to fly this plane, we don’t. If we don’t make it back, you can get it back in the sky and figure out what to do next.”

“You want me to come up with a plan for what to do next?” Jordan asks, making a face. “My dad literally made a video instructing me what to do. That’s how bad I am at making plans.”

Clarke can’t help but smile at that. “That’s worst case scenario.”

“Don’t you guys kinda live in worst case scenario?” Jordan asks, eyes wide.

Clarke looks at Bellamy who merely shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

Shaking her head, Clarke grabs Jordan’s shoulders. “It’ll be really quick. We’ll search around, make sure it’s safe for everyone to wake up, and then we’ll come back. You’re just holding down the fort when we’re gone.”

“Is this because my mom asked you to take care of me?” Jordan frowns. “You realize I’m twenty five, right? I think I’m older than you, Clarke.”

“That’s cute, I’m over a hundred years old.” Clarke states, nudging his shoulder.

“My soul is in the five hundreds.” Bellamy offers with a smirk.

Crossing his arms, Jordan frowns, “Fine. I’ll get us landed and stay on the ship. But, it’ll take a night. And in return for how mature I’ve handled this turn of events—” Clarke and Bellamy share an amused look. “—you guys have to watch a movie with me tonight. I want to get your thoughts on one of the five movies Eligius had on board that I’ve seen roughly fifty million times. My parents and I have talked them to death, so I want to get your thoughts.”

He storms off to what Clarke can only guess is the control room, because she vaguely remembers seeing a rather large screen in there. She can’t help but laugh at him. It’s a surprise, a genuine laugh sneaks out and she shakes her head. “So I guess we’re having a movie night. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

“I guess we are.” Bellamy says. “I’ve had many a movie night on the Ring. Monty hacked into the Ark’s movie collection and we’d watch them from time to time. Not much else to do there.”

“What was your favorite?” Clarke asks, trying to ignore the way her heart aches at the idea of them together and safe. Without her.

Maybe it’s the way it was meant to be. She was always good alone.

Bellamy’s face scrunches up in that way he does when he’s thinking intently. “Well, depends on the mood I’m in. I discovered I really didn’t like watching war as much as I thought I would’ve.”

“That makes sense.” Clarke chuckles. “I think you and I have had enough war to last us a lifetime, you know?”

“There was a movie called Gladiator that was pretty good. Though, the historical inaccuracies took me out of the story a few times.”

“Are you serious? You’re upset at a movie over historical inaccuracies?” Clarke repeats, unable to stop from laughing. He turns to her, mildly shocked at the outburst, but she can’t help herself. “You are such a curmudgeon sometimes.”

“Did you seriously just call me a curmudgeon?”

“I don’t see you denying it!” Clarke responds, shaking her head at him. “You are upset that a movie called Gladiator didn’t have more accurate information.”

“I’m just saying that if you are going to make a movie about a certain time period, you should make sure the movie is as accurate as possible. You’ve read about that time period, Clarke, they had the internet then. Those filmmakers could’ve made it more truthful to the times.”

“I don’t think a movie like that is about historical accuracy, Bellamy.”

“Ugh, you would’ve been as bad as Murphy,” Bellamy says casually and Clarke stiffens at that, trying not to show how much it affects her. Fortunately he doesn’t even notice, like he would’ve before Praimfaya. “You should’ve heard him talk about how annoying I am. He has no respect for history. I thought I’d at least have you on my side for that.”

“Hey, I will always be on your side against Murphy based on principle. But I think you’re missing the point of Hollywood.”

“I hate it.”

“Okay Grandpa, are you going to start saying that the kids have no respect for you these days?” Clarke asks, unable to stop herself.

“Just so rude, Clarke.” He teases.

Their laughter filters off and Clarke finds herself growing uncomfortable with the silence that settles between the two. They would’ve been able to shake off any tension that washed over them. They can’t now. It’s stuck between them, reminding them of everything that happened.

“I should probably make sure Jordan isn’t picking out an explicit movie,” Clarke says, her joke falling flat. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt him until Murphy wakes up.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy responds, licking his lips. “You… you should do that.”

Clarke nods and moves away from him. She can feel the stinging of tears in her eyes as she moves away.

Is it possible to miss someone who is right in front of you?

***

Bellamy isn’t nervous.

Really, he _isn’t_.

Because it’s nothing weird – it’s not like the dates that he saw in all those movies where two people sit and watch a movie and both are really awkward and uncomfortable. It’s not a date at all, because it’s Clarke and there’s too much… whatever between them. Plus, Jordan will be there.

So Bellamy isn’t nervous.

Except he hesitates at the door, listening to Clarke and Jordan’s chatter from the other side. A part of him is glad that it’s just the three of them and that he and Clarke will be scouting tomorrow. He’ll finally be able to talk to her – force her to talk to him in all the ways that she avoids.

The other part is terrified.

What would he say to her, now that he has the opportunity? Would he tell her about his time on the Ring, drowning in depression and alcohol as he tried to reconcile the fact that he left her on earth to die? Would he confront her about the hurt he felt that she left him in the fighting pit at the hands of his sister – that he kept looking at the entrance of the pit, expecting her to burst through and get him out? Would he tell her the guilt he felt for putting the Flame in Madi’s head, her screams for him to stop resounding in his head?

Bellamy sucks in a breath and opens the control room, startled to see a pile of pillows and blankets in front of the large screen. “Bellamy, it’s about time!” Jordan exclaims. In front of the pillows are three bowls, a green liquid sloshing around when he moves them as Bellamy seats next to him. Clarke is on the other side of Bellamy, the blanket up to her chest and a pillow behind her head. Even here, she’s slightly tense, like she doesn’t quite trust what’s happening. Bellamy gets it.

He can’t help but be mildly charmed, though. She’s never seen her look so soft, her feet curled under a blanket and her hair askew from the pillows that Jordan’s set up around them. She’s gripping the blanket a little too tightly to be entirely relaxed. Bellamy isn’t sure what she’s so anxious about, but he’s scared to ask, unsure if he actually wants the answer.

“Okay,” Jordan states, wiggling around a bit to get comfortable. “Welcome to the Green Family Movie Night. We used to do this all the time – we’d have competitions on who got to choose the movie. This one was one of Mom’s favorites because she always would say that it would remind her of people. I always tried to get her to tell me who it reminded her of, but she said once I met everyone, I’d have to make my own decision about it.”

“That sounds like Harper,” Clarke says quietly, her smile sad.

It was rare for Bellamy to see her smile freely. He used to try and make it happen – give her a casual joke just to see that smile. She didn’t smile often, but when it happened, god, it lit up the world. He never thought he’d see it again and now, he’s lucky if he ever sees it.

“Okay, so I’m not going to spoil it for you. Well, I’m going to try not to spoil it for you. Well, I have thoughts that maybe I should share with you first before we watch it, so you’re fully prepared—”

“Why don’t you start with the name of the movie?” Bellamy chuckles, reaching out to take a sip of his algae. It’s as horrible as he remembers it.

“It’s called _Casablanca_. My mom loves it, but I really think—”

Without waiting for what Jordan really thinks, Bellamy reaches over and presses play on the remote in front of them, a swell of music plays loudly as the title comes on. It’s a movie Bellamy’s never seen, but he’s read about it. One of the great romantic films of the time. Of any time. The soft black and whites shine across the screen and Jordan quiets, wiggling until he grows still. His eyes shine as he watches it.

“I haven’t watched it since I said goodbye to them.” Jordan says quietly, the enthusiasm over their thoughts filtering away.

Clarke peers to look at him, reaching out for his hand. She wraps hers in his in a very mother-like fashion, not taking her eyes off the screen. Bellamy can’t help but marvel at the gentle gesture. Clarke has always been a fierce leader, but he rarely saw this soft side of her. There was no time for soft in a world of war.

Soon he gets too entranced in the movie to watch anything else but that. The smooth lyrics of _As Time Goes By_ play and he hears Clarke take a sharp breath. _“Moonlight and loves songs never out of date / Hearts full of passion, jealousy, and hate / Woman needs man, and man must have his mate / That no one can deny / It’s still the same old story / A fight for love and glory / A case of do or die.”_

Bellamy can’t help but turn to look at her.

The movie is flicking in her eyes, lighting up her whole expression as he sees the tears in her eyes. They glimmer in the light and she’s gripping the blanket still, but it doesn’t seem like it has anything to do with any sort of anxiousness. Instead, she’s leaning forward, as if she can’t see the movie enough, a single tear skating down her cheek.

He can’t explain it, he feels the need to move over there and wipe it away, but as usual, he doesn’t move. There’s something in the space between them that he can’t explain – something that keeps him rooted in the space he’s sat in.

As if she feels his eyes on him, Clarke turns her head to him. He doesn’t flinch or move. He thinks that he should, but instead he looks at her, the music playing softly as he does.

_“The world will always welcome lovers.”_ The movies plays. _“As time goes by_.”

Bellamy takes a breath.

“You don’t want to miss this part,” Jordan says, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. “It has crucial plot points.”

He doesn’t want to look away. Clarke is the first to tear her gaze away from him, her hands tightly wound in the blanket around her. He waits a moment before returning his attention to the screen as well.

The movie continues, but now there’s a buzzing under his skin he can’t quite ignore. It feels like he’s a bit on fire, even as he watches the two at the tearful goodbye. Something settles in his chest as he watches it, the ache of familiar waning. Clarke bunches herself together watching it, tears freely falling down her face. As they separate, Clarke squeezes her eyes shut and looks down, as if it’s too painful for her to watch.

Bellamy understands.

When the credits roll, Jordan wastes no time in turning the lights back on. Clarke quickly wipes under her cheeks when he does so, looking off to her left to avoid eye contact. Bellamy clears his throat, the movie getting to him in a way he doesn’t want to admit.

Jordan doesn’t even allow for the discomfort to settle among them. “So, I want to know your thoughts. My mom said this was one of the most romantic movies of all time, but how could it be romantic if they are separated on the end? If he really loved her, he wouldn’t have made her go. They would’ve made it work – figured out a way to be together.”

Bellamy doesn’t even know how to answer it. It seems like more than a simple question.

“Because sometimes you have to leave the ones you love,” Clarke responds, swallowing and wiping a few stray tears away. “Sometimes… sometimes timing doesn’t work out in your favor or you aren’t the person they should be with. Sometimes you have to figure out what is best for them, instead of what you want more than anything in the world. You have to take yourself out of the equation, and realize that the world will always be a little less bright. A little less warm. But that’s okay, if they’re safe. If they’re happy.”

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say after that.

***

They stand in front of the Eligius ship door. Clarke swallows, a night of poor sleep and endless ‘what ifs’ rolling through her head. She hasn’t said anything to Bellamy since the movie, because she knows what it sounded like. It sounded like she was pining, that she blamed him for any separation that happened, which isn’t the case. It was a movie, it was all a movie.

“The air could be toxic.” Bellamy says quietly when she doesn’t say anything. There’s a hint of teasing in his voice, but even more so, a question. A question of whether they were alright, if they would be able to make it through this trip together.

Clarke smiles. “If the air’s toxic, we’re all dead anyway.”

Bellamy beams at that. “We’ve come full circle.”

“It’s almost poetic.”

“A story that spans Universes and lifetimes.” Bellamy agrees. “A story that would’ve been written about.”

“Which story?” Clarke asks. “The story of how we came here?”

“The story of us.” He answers.

Before she can figure out what he could possibly mean, Bellamy reaches out and pulls the leaver. The door unhinges and slides down, the shining world glinting before them. Clarke blinking in the suns, their light blinding her after being in the dark for so long. She sneaks a look at Bellamy, who does nothing more than smile at her. It settles the anxiety in her chest, and she feels like she’s ready.

Ready for the new world.

Clarke makes her way forward down the ship door, the sun against her skin. It’s warm. Warm in a way she feels in her bones after years of cryosleep. Warm in a way that that makes her feel peace. Bellamy moves next to her, side-by-side, his arms out as he blinks in the sunlight.

“Not toxic,” she says, taking a deep breath in.

“At least not immediately.” Bellamy offers, moving forward.

“That’s a comforting thought. Good to know your time in space did wonders for your optimism.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Just speaking from experience.”

“Experience shows that we should be fine. You’re just a pessimist.” Clarke teases, joining him so they’re standing next to each other.

“And you’re not?”

“We’re still breathing, aren’t we?” Clarke asks, with a small smile.

When she realizes what might be implied by what she said, she moves forward so they’re no longer in line with one another, so he’s nothing more than a blur in her peripheral vision. Clarke pulls at the end of her jacket, down to the edge where the burns from Praimfaya. It’s a safety thing, being able to hide them. Being able to mask that part of herself from the world when she wants to.

There’s a softness to this world. A softness she finds mildly dangerous and suspicious, but it’s a nice break from a world that wants to kill her. Soft calls from animals and birds ring out and there’s a crispness in the air that she doesn’t remember ever experiencing. After Praimfaya, the air was always mildly thick and suffocating. She got used to it after a few years, but the planet pierces her lungs in a way that hurts.

It’s clear that Bellamy is taken aback as well, because it’s a bit before he catches up with her. Clarke shoulders her bag and she can’t help but have a sense of hope curling in her chest. It’s dangerous. She hasn’t felt something like this since she clinged to the radio every day, waiting for Bellamy to come back home.

_Home._

Would this be their home?

“Is that a Clarke Griffin smile I see?” Bellamy asks, reaching her. “One of the rare, Clarke Griffin smiles?”

“I smile. I smile all the time. I smiled at you this morning.”

Bellamy nudges her side. “Sure you did. I just would like to see it more often.”

Clarke is feeling hopeful, but also indignant, which is a dangerous combination. So she bares her teeth as wide as possible. “Wow,” Bellamy comments. “I can’t believe I ever doubted you.”

“You should feel foolish.” Clarke says.

She feels mildly uncomfortable, the events from last night buzzing in the back of her mind. She felt like she was drowning in desire and _want_ , but there was nothing that she could do about it.

Jordan being in the middle was the perfect metaphor.

He was here. She was there.

That’s how it always was and always will be.

Except they are currently alone, which she isn’t sure how she feels about. Because he hasn’t asked her about the fighting pits, she hasn’t asked him about putting the Flame in Madi, and they’ve done nothing to discuss the events of six years ago.

The stones of their past build up, creating a wall until she can barely see him.

Oh, how she wants to tear down that wall.

But she built it. You can’t tear down what you’ve spent years creating. Clarke will die in the shadows of the wall she built before she tears down the first brick.

“So what are we even looking for?” Clarke asks. “What’s our goal?”

“That’s the scary thing, isn’t it?” Bellamy says, unable to mask the genuine humor in his voice. “We have none. We can literally do whatever the hell we want.”

Clarke closes her eyes. “Not again.”

“What are you talking about – oh god, not that.” Bellamy says, running his hand down his face. “I mean, everyone is still in cryo and they’re safe. Jordan is basically chained to the ship, so he’s safe. We _can_ do whatever we want.”

Clarke turns to him, narrowing her eyes. “And what do you want, Bellamy Blake?”

Bellamy swallows, his gaze falling slightly. He rubs the back of his neck, mildly uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he says. “I never really thought about it before.”

That takes Clarke aback. “You never thought about what you want?”

Bellamy shrugs, pushing past her into the woods. “I dunno,” he says, Clarke barely able to understand him with how quickly he’s walking. “I guess it was never really an option.”

“But,” Clarke pushes because she needs to understand. She needs to understand why he doesn’t think he deserves a happy ending. Why he always pushes off happiness to other people, but never embracing it for himself. She manages to catch up with him, having to take twice the amount of steps as he is simply to keep up with his long strides. “You had six years on the Ark. You had six years to think about what you wanted – what you wanted of the world. When you didn’t think Eligius existed and thought the Bunker wouldn’t be the Pandora’s Box it turned out to be. You had six years to think of a world that wasn’t coiled with war. What did you think about then?”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed and he doesn’t answer right away. “Doesn’t matter what I thought then.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Why is this so important to you?” Bellamy asks, trying to mask his discomfort with a laugh.

“Why isn’t it important to you?” Clarke asks, mildly aghast. “I don’t understand why you didn’t spend six years thinking about what you wanted to world to be! What you wanted your life to be?”

“Of course I did!” Bellamy cries, his frustration getting the best of him. “Of course I planned. But my plans had to do with making sure we were creating a world that was worthy of your sacrifice. So no, I don’t want to talk about my plans for the world because I was planning for a world where you didn’t exist and I really don’t want to think about that, okay?” He snaps.

Clarke recoils, unsure of what to say to that.

He trudges ahead, not saying another word. Clarke follows him, catching up only because it’s a planet the two don’t know. She knows logically that the two of them should stay together, but they’re getting to a dangerous place. They always found ways not to talk about the tension between them. Here they are alone.

As they continue in the forest, another noise rings in the back of Clarke’s ears. It’s distant, faint. A plinking sound curls around them, like a piano in a distant cave. Clarke shakes her head, hoping the noise will gradually go away.

It doesn’t, just as the tension curling around them.

***

It starts to rain.

Bellamy tries not to be too annoyed by it, but he is. In truth he used to like the rain, the way it felt against his skin after being stuck in a metal tube for such a long time. But then the rain turned to acid and his friends turned to corpses and he thought that that was enough rain for him.

He’s already in a particularly sour mood, because he doesn’t know to approach Clarke as they saunter through the woods looking for things that could kill them all, and now it has to rain. Perfect.

How can he just walk around, words that he always wanted to say hanging over his head?

Because the truth is, he cursed a cruel God that would take so many people from him.

Clarke asked him what his plans were? His plans were to make sure no one else died. He didn’t have six years to plan what he wanted, because he had _years_ thinking about what he lost. They stacked up around him until he was carrying the weight of it, desperately trying not to lose every name lost to him.

It’s still hard for him to wrap his mind around it. Because sure, it’s _technically_ been over a hundred years, but he’d only had Clarke back for a few weeks. A lot can happen in a few weeks.

Clarke’s shivering next to him, already drenched through her clothes. He makes a face at this, peering around the area. There really isn’t any place for them to hide and warm up, but he doesn’t like the way her hands shake as they grip the strap of her backpack.

His frustration with the woman fades the more he watches it. “We should find someplace to take shelter from the rain before it gets worse.” Bellamy says, looking around. “So far nothing has wanted to kill us, so I think it’d be alright to stop for a bit.”

“False, the rain wants to kill us.” Clarke chatters, clearly trying to seem calmer than she is actually capable. “It feels so much colder, even though there are two suns. We’ll need to be careful when we start exploring with large groups and make sure they can keep warm.”

“And us, preferably, in this moment. If we die of hypothermia, there’s no way we can relay that message.” Bellamy offers, looking around. “How did we survive the first few days on the ground?”

“If I remember, you survived by having sex with everything that moved.” Clarke comments, looking around.

Bellamy startles. “Oh my god, it comes out after all these years.” It’s easier to tease her than go back to what they were talking about. It’s safe, comfortable. It gives him an out when he doesn’t know how this conversation ends.

“What?” Clarke asks, whirling around.

“You were definitely checking me out.” Bellamy responds.

Clarke’s eyes widened. “What are you even talking about?”

“If I remember correctly, you were going off on a mission to try to find supplies. How would you know any of this if you weren’t actively paying attention to what I was doing? It came out. You wanted me.”

Clarke heaves a long-suffering sigh and turns to him. “I can’t believe the conversation we’re having right now.”

“That is proper deflection, Griffin. Come on, just admit it. You were into me.”

Clarke lifts an eyebrow and her face twists into something he would only describe as diabolical. Moving carefully toward him, Clarke leans close to his face. He recoils at how close she is, not wanting to move. “You got me.”

Then, she whirls around, her hair twirling as she laughs to herself.

Okay. So that backfired.

He and Clarke were never like this. Carefree. Flirty. Sure, he had times when he may have flirted on occasion, but the world was constantly ending, so he felt like it was his right. But every time it got more serious – closer to _being_ something, they always were separated.

Now? Now they were wandering around a planet they didn’t know and alone for the first time since he can remember.

“Well,” he says, trying to recover. “I’m glad we got that out in the open.”

Clarke merely chuckles at that. Bellamy is very grateful Murphy and Raven aren’t here. He’d never hear the end of it.

In the distance, Bellamy hears something. It’s soft, but a presence that he isn’t sure he can shake. He watches as Clarke’s attention is briefly gone and it occurs to him that maybe he’s not the only one who hears it.

“Getting back on topic,” Clarke says, not looking at him. “You’re not wrong, we need to get out of the rain. Especially since we don’t know anything about his climate.”

“Yes,” Bellamy answers thickly, trying his best not to think about what anything means. They’re dangerously close to the line. The line that neither of them talk about. Every time Bellamy feels like he has the courage to discuss it, something happens.

Now would be the time.

Clarke’s teeth are starting to chatter, in the way the people do when they try to convince others that they are not cold. Maybe now isn’t the time.

“Do you hear that?” Clarke finally asks.

“The music?”

“Yes!” Clarke says, relieved. “I thought I was losing my mind. You hear the music playing?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says.

“It could be dangerous,” Clarke offers. “But I don’t know what else we can do. We’re too far to go back, and without a source of heat, there’s a good chance this can go south quickly. If there’s music playing, there’s gotta be someone there.”

“We don’t have a tremendous track record with new people on a planet.”

“Well, we’re not going to be brandishing guns left and right, aren’t we?” Clarke asks. “We’re doing this differently, we’re not going to be on the attack.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes. It’s not that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, because it is. Of course it is. Logically, they need to be as respectful as possible. They’re guests in this world. But there’s a small part of him – a part that he’s tried his best to suppress over the past years, that _loathes_ the idea of walking into a trap with Clarke of all people.

“There are people on that ship counting on us.” Clarke continues when he doesn’t say anything.

“There are always people counting on us, Clarke. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to be okay with some sort of suicide mission.”

“Who says it’s some sort of suicide mission?” Clarke asks. “If it’s a place where we can get out of the rain and avoid getting hypothermia, I think it’s a good plan!”

“It is a good plan!” Bellamy shouts. He startles himself when he yells. He hasn’t lost that sort of control in a while. “It’s just—”

“All head.” Clarke says, a smile at the corner of her lips. “Every natural instinct you have is fighting against it.”

Bellamy heaves a sigh. “You know, I used to be much more under control.”

“I know.” Clarke says, pushing past him.

Groaning, Bellamy shoulders his pack. “But our Princess has that effect on people.”

***

The building isn’t what Clarke expects.

In truth, she isn’t sure what she expects. When she thought of a distant piano, she thought she would stumble across camps like the dropship, hobbled together with broke pieces of metal and a hopeful people. Except that isn’t was sits in front of her.

What sits in front of her is a mansion that she only saw in photos from the past. Pieces of the building are crumbled, as if time has crashed against it like waves on the sea. The door is covered in rust from the rain and the windows are broken and hazy. Clarke moves towards the door, but then Bellamy brushes past her as if he needs to do it first. She’d be annoyed if he wasn’t so determined.

When the door doesn’t open on its own, Bellamy takes a few steps back until the two of them are in a line. Clarke notices there’s a shiver to his movements and he’s paler than she’s ever seen him. She ignores her own shaking to rake her eyes over him as he kicks the door in, wood splintering on impact. Bellamy winces at it. “I hate destroying it. It’s beautiful architecture.”

“Only you, Bellamy,” Clarke says fondly, pushing past him inside. “Quick, before you freeze to death.”

The two step inside the building, ornate drawings and gilded walls greeting them. It’s dark inside, everything tinted with an ominous glow. The paintings of people dancing are tinted with blue and purple that make them look sick, the gold nothing more than a highlight for the shadows within.

Clarke peers upward, trying to see the brushstrokes from the where she stands on the ground. It’s almost impossible from where she’s standing, so she focuses on something she can. “You need to take that jacket off.” She says to Bellamy, unshouldering her own backpack. “You’ll warm up quicker.”

“Wha?’ Bellamy asks, clearly taken aback as she strips her leather jacket off and tosses it aside along with her backpack.

“You need to take as much as you can off as you can, you’ll dry and warm up quicker.”

Bellamy stares at her like she’s spoken to him in a different language. “I’m sorry, you want me to do _what_?”

“Bellamy, I’ve never known you to be modest.” Clarke states, rolling her eyes. When he doesn’t move, she walks over to take off his jacket.

“What are you doing?” He asks, flinching as she tries to take his jacket off him. “What are you—”

“Please stop fussing, I’m trying to save you from hypothermia.” Clarke mutters, managing to wrangle him out. She tries not to react to how close they are, brushing her hands accidentally against his chest and accidentally pulling him into her as she wrestles him out. “I’m trying to help you.”

“It feels like you’re trying to remove me from my clothes.”

“Probably because that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Clarke says, peeling his arm out of his jack and tossing it aside. “How do you feel about the pants?”

_“What?”_

“Only kidding, just wanted to see how high your voice would get.” Clarke states.

“You are in rare form.” Bellamy states, shaking his hair so droplets fling everywhere. “Wait, what’s that?”

Clarke whips around, expecting to see people aiming guns at them, but when there’s nothing behind her, she turns back puzzled. “What’s what?”

“I never noticed…” Bellamy says, his words drifting off as he moves closer. Sure, she enjoyed messing with him, but when he intentionally moves into her space, she isn’t sure what she’s to do about it. His hands brush against her shoulder and she doesn’t know what to do. His fingers drift against her skin, touching her in a way she hasn’t been in years.

Clarke shivers and blames it on the cold.

Then she realizes what he’s referring to. His hands are running down the white scars that cover a good portion of her skin, from shoulder to thigh on her left side. She’d done her best to cover as much as possible, relying on the coverage of her jacket that made her feel safe.

As if in a trance, Bellamy runs his hand up and down her shoulder. A part of her thinks that she should ask him to stop – at the very least, cough and move away – but finds that she can’t. “Are these from Praimfaya?” He asks, his words deep and cracked.

Clarke isn’t sure what to say.

She never wanted to talk to Bellamy about this, mainly because she knew him. She knew that he would take it upon himself, she knew that he would be sent back to all those years ago.

But her scars are there.

She grew used to them. There was a time in her life when she hated them. They reminded her of everything she lost. Every time she extended her arm, she saw the people whose eyes grew still under her hands. After a while, that hatred faded. It faded into something of sadness. And then indifference.

Then she forgot.

She forgot until Bellamy stands there, stroking her arm as if he can’t believe she’s standing her before him.

“Yes.” She says quietly.

“Why?” He asks, still unable to stop touching them. Clarke can’t look at him or her scars or anything else in the room, so she closes her eyes.

“What?”

“Why do you have them?” He murmurs. “Weren’t you in the lab?”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. There are moments when she knows that it is a defining part of her life. That her answer will dictate what comes next. She’s felt it more than she cares to admit. But when she stands in front of Bellamy, thinking of all the things that she could say to him, all she can do is be transported back to that day. “I got there.”

“When?”

Clarke shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Bellamy says insistently, his fingers now wrapping around her arm. “It matters.”

“It was so long ago—”

“It doesn’t feel like it to me.” Bellamy say, his words growing more urgent. “It feels like it was just the other day. I can still see your face in the radiation suit.”

“Bellamy—”

“I see it in my dreams.” He says, not letting go of her arm. “I see it everywhere.”

“I made it back in time.” Clarke says, her words firm. “Bellamy, I made it back in time.”

“You were out there.” He continues. “You were—”

The piano music grows louder until there’s a loud clang and the two of them all but leap apart.

“What is that?” Clarke asks, grateful for the distraction. “If someone’s here, we should make sure that they know we’re not invading. We should go check it out.”

“Clarke—” Bellamy calls, but she moves too quick for him to catch her.

She leaves him again, the ghost of his fingers against her skin burning like the wave of fire.

***

This woman’s going to be the death of him.

Seriously, he’s convinced of this. When Clarke runs off, he groans and runs after her. Except all he has to go on is her footsteps and a faint piano music that is slowly growing louder. _One, two, three, one, two three._ His footsteps fall in line with the beat unintentionally, which he quickens once he realizes. “Clarke!” Bellamy shouts, but she’s too far away.

_One, two, three._

_One, two, three._

The music grows louder, but Bellamy finds himself rooted in the ballroom. Moonlight pours through the windows and in certain angles, it seems as though there’s a flick of a cloak. A swish of a dress. Blinking a few times, he turns around in the ballroom. “Clarke?” He asks once more.

Footsteps surround him as the figures curved with moonlight and hallucination become more solid. More opaque. Figures moves around, their shoes clicking against the floor in beat with the music. _One, two, three, one, two, three._

“You’re supposed to bow.”

Bellamy whips around the voice, something familiar about its tone. It’s firm, yet gentle, a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. A voice that had been so long ago, he sometimes wonders if it’s nothing more than a memory that he’ll never be able to fully realize.

“Mom?” Bellamy asks, when he finally turns around.

The woman stands before him, her eyes still coated with the coldness that seemed to plague everyone on the Ark. But deep in them, where no one else could wander, he sees the love that he felt every day with her. She reaches out a slender hand toward him, waiting.

He’s afraid to grab it. Because this isn’t real. This _couldn’t_ be real. His mother had been long since dead, nothing more than space dust. From whence they came, to where they rest.

Bellamy realizes it doesn’t matter, though. He takes it in his, feeling the coolness against his skin. His mother smiles warmly at him, pulling him closer. She pulls him back so that they dance in line with all the moonlit couples, dust from the mansion swirling around them. “Oh my Bellamy,” she says, placing her head against his chest.

“Mom,” Bellamy says, his eyes widening.

The music pounds in his ears. He knows this isn’t real, there has to be something else going on, but he can’t bring himself to tear away. It’s his mom. His mother who was taken from him because of a careless act and a cruel system. He never knew how to be an adult, but yet he became a man.

There are several moments in his life when he wished he had a parent next to him. He knew his mother was limited, because life had not been kind to her. But she was still his mother and she did not deserve the cruel ending the Ark gave to her.

So as they move around the ballroom, he gives himself this moment. He knows it’s not real. But if it’s not real, it doesn’t mean he can’t pretend that he has someone in this moment. So that the fear that has taken residence in his bones, that he cannot shake as long as his body moves. But she pulls it from him, Her arm wrapped around him, as if she’s ready to shelter him from a world she could never protect him from. “Mom,” Bellamy repeats, closing his eyes. “How is this possible?”

“The world always brings back what we’ve lost,” she says softly as they sway in the ballroom. “Even when we think they’re truly gone.”

He spins her around and his mother’s hair shimmers in the moonlight. Bellamy can see through her, reminding him that this is nothing more than a dream. “But this isn’t real, Mom.” Bellamy says, gripping her close to him. “I-I’m so sorry.”

“Honey,” She says, looking up at him. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want me to be floated. We lived in a world that what unkind to the freedom of life. From when we were born, we have a limited amount of days left. That’s not your fault, that’s not my fault. That’s life.”

“I wasn’t ready, Mom.” Bellamy says softly in her hair.

“If you waited until you were ready, Bellamy, you would never set foot anywhere.” She looks up at him, placing a hand against his cheek.

They’re barely swaying to the music anymore. There are couples dancing around them, the waltz playing in the ballroom swelling to a grandiose beat. He sees the couples turning and twirling and it’s dizzying, so he focuses on his mother.

She’s soft in a way she never was on the Ark. The way he had always wished her to be. He loves his mother, he loves her to this day, but there was a part of him that realized because of the Ark, she was limited. Perhaps on the Ark, they all were. They were stifled and confined in a metal tube in the sky and put locks on what they could do. Who they could be,

“This is a chance, Bellamy. A chance for you to be the person you wanted to be. To be more than we ever dreamed.”

Bellamy looks at his mom. “What if I mess it up again? I made so many mistakes on the Ground. You would’ve been ashamed of what I became.”

“Did you learn?” She asks. “Did you continue to make those mistakes once you learned how they destroyed the world?”  


“What?”

“Monsters are not those who stray to the dark. Monsters are those who stray to the dark and take residence there, asking why there’s no light.”

She pulls away, keeping Bellamy’s hands in hers. At some point, everyone stopped dancing. He didn’t know when it happened, but they were filtering away, as if returning to the moonlight they came from. His mom starts to pulls away, and a panic strikes him. “Mom, no!” He exclaims.

He moves to grab her hands tightly, but then his fingers clench to themselves over what is her hands. She’s shimmering, the moonlight going through her and creating her all at once. It’s like seeing the universe, but being behind the glass of the Ark once more. “Mom!”

“Have courage, my love.” She says, bringing her hands to her chest.

“Mom, I’m not ready.” Bellamy says again. “I don’t know how to do it right. I’m not ready.”

She smiles at him.

“Do it anyway.”

The moon filters through the windows, leaving Bellamy with nothing more than the rays of light from the Universe. “Mom,” he says, the word cracking.

The music plays one final, solitary note.

***

Clarke turns around at the sound of a piano being slammed down. “Bellamy? Do you hear that?” She asks. Whirling around, she realizes that he’s no longer following her. She tries to ignore the panic that grips her chest, turning back around to where she was certain he was following her.

The piano music grows and Clarke passes a door, a light flickering from underneath the gap. The music grows and she can hear the clacking of keys as they play a light tune, with a steady beat. _One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._

“No, Clarke.” She whispers to herself as she draws closer to the door. “This is a bad idea. You need to find Bellamy.”

But even as she passes it, it’s as if the music is growing louder. She finds herself hesitating before passing it, shadows flickering past the light again and again. Moving toward the door, she places a gentle hand against the wood and presses her ear against the door. When she does, she hears the piano louder than ever.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she still doesn’t see Bellamy. But she feels _drawn_ to the room, greater than anything that she can understand. Her feet lead her to the door and her hand reaches out. As she opens the door, she sees the shadows. They move around the space, but they don’t seem like real people. Whenever they pass through the light, it’s as if a part of them are see-through.

She closes the door behind her quietly, watching the group dance in circles. They break apart, putting their arms in the air and crossing. They look so majestic, the way the move. It’s as if they’re air itself, wafting through the hall, sprinkled with stars.

A figure approaches her, cutting through the dances. Clarke wants to back up, but she finds that she’s having a hard time feeling her feet. They continue to move forward, the moonlight glimmering until they reveal his face. Clarke sucks in a breath, unable to stop herself from leaning backwards a bit until they’re right in front of her. “Honey,” Jake says with a soft smile, offering his hand.

“Dad?” Clarke asks. She doesn’t reach for it. “How is this possible?”

Jake grins. “It’s as we always say. May we meet again. I think it’s time for you and I to meet again.”

Clarke still doesn’t move. “Does this mean that I’ve died?”

“You don’t have to die to meet the ones you love. In fact, my dear, you simply need to live.” He says. “Now, may I have this dance?”

“I can’t—”

Jake takes her hand and Clarke finds herself stumbling forward, pulled into the rhythm of the dancing around her. He takes her hand and steps forward, Clarke trying to mimic his movements. For a little while, they don’t say anything to one another. He merely leads her around and they dance. Clarke marvels at having her father before her – being able to see and touch him. Something she never thought she’d do again. But there’s a part of her that understands that this can’t be real. It’s like having half a life – all the pain, with nothing that makes sense.

“You’ve had a tough time, my dear.” Jake says, breaking the silence of conversation as the melancholy notes drift around them. Clarke can’t even look at him. Everything she’s done – all of her actions – Raven was right, all those years ago. Her father would be ashamed of the person she became. “The world has not been kind to you.”

“I have not been kind to the world.” Clarke responds as her father offers a hand to twirl her around. She spins, almost dizzying as everyone else does it too.

Jake huffs. “We wanted to shield you from so much on the Ark as long as we could. The tough decisions we had to make. The sacrifices that were going on behind the scenes. We wanted you to believe we were the heroes you thought we were.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There were aspects of our time on the Ark that your mother and I participated in for the greater good. But not for the good of those involved.”

The two part and form a line. When the other start to move closer, maneuvering around one another, Clarke does as well. “What do you mean?”

“Clarke, I was in charge of the ventilation on the Ark. I was the one who made the final recommendation when we had to cull. I had greenlit three cullings on the Ark during my tenure. People who didn’t know. Who slowly fell asleep and then they were no more. I made that call so that everyone else could live.” Jake is grimmer than Clarkes ever seen them. “I went over every file of person I killed. I see their faces always. Sometimes I couldn’t see past the faces. Even knowing that the Ark survived – that the human race survived, I couldn’t see past it. The only time I ever could was when I looked at you. Knowing I saved my family, saved me.”

He brings her back in and they move around the couples of moonlight. “You never said anything like this to me before.”

“As someone close to you once mentioned, it’s tough being in charge. Now your mother had it much worse. She had to decide who lived and who died on a regular basis.”

Clarke’s head snaps up at that. “I’m sorry?”

“In the medical bay, there’s a quality of life limit. Not for the patient, but for the rest of the Ark. How would saving this person affect everyone else. Would giving them blood be a detriment to anyone else who had a better chance of living? Would her time be better spent on someone else? She had to make that call.”

Clarke frowns, something growing in her chest that she doesn’t care for.

“Your mom did the best she could. But we never figured your life would be riddled with such decisions. She didn’t want you to feel the pain she felt. Nor did I. So we hid that part of life from you. I know now we did you a disservice.”

“What do you mean?”

“We could’ve told you this,” Jake says, bringing his hand down and lifting her chin so she’s forced to stare in his eyes. “Sometimes we do things that go against what we believe in because we’re given new information. Humans are ever changing and adaptive creatures. Anyone who claims that they have never changed who they are or what they believe is either lying to you, or someone who was never forced to grow. You make choices with the information you have. Sometimes, honestly, it isn’t the best choice. But usually you’re working with pieces of information. Sure, we wish we had the time to figure every angle, but that’s not how it works. You try your best, and sometimes it turns out your best wasn’t the best. It doesn’t make you a monster.”

“How do you know that, though?” Clarke asks, her eyes filling with tears. “The things that I’ve done—”

“We the best you could do with the information you had. And people died. You made choice after choice that people didn’t want to make. It got put on your shoulders because no one wants that responsibility. Do you know the kind of strength it takes to assume that responsibility and not collapse under it?”

Clarke crumbles pressing her cheek against her dad’s chest. “I just wanted to be the good guy.”

“Never stop feeling that, Clarke.” Jake says. It surprises her, his response. She expected a platitude, a contradiction, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he says softly, “It makes you a good person. It makes you question every decision. It makes you check your morality again and again. It’s when you start making decisions without remorse that you have to worry. When you start believing you are always in the right, you run the risk of descending into the darkness.”

Clarke closes her eyes as they sway and she _feels_ the weight of those she’s lost around her. She moves back and forth. Clarke knows this isn’t real. And yet she gives herself this piece of the world. Holds it tightly, for she doesn’t know when it’ll be gone.

“Make sure you have someone to balance yourself out. Ground you. Level you when the pain is too much. Your mom and I did that for each other. The world is too heavy to carry on your own. Find someone who will offer a hand in times of the dark.”

Clarke squeezes her eyes, a few tears leaking out. “Why did you have to go, Dad? I could’ve helped you.”

“Clarke, we all make stands for what we believe in. We have to accept what happens after. There is no action with consequence. And there is no life without risk. Choices have weight, and that was gives life meaning. I do not regret what I did. Take comfort, Clarke. The world is unkind to travelers who don’t trust their own steps.”

Clarke holds him tightly. She wants this moment to stay, for her father to stay with her, and to have someone to talk with her about the choices she made.

Her arms swipe through and she stumbles forward.

The ballroom is empty.

“Dad?” Clarke calls and she doesn’t hear the music any longer. All she hears is the echoing of her voice, calling for family that isn’t there.

***

“Clarke!” Bellamy calls down the hallway, scrubbing under his eyes. He knows something’s happening on this planet. Whether it’s their body not adjusting to the new atmosphere or something darker, he knows only one thing: he needs to find Clarke and make sure he’s okay.

Though, every time he calls her name, all he’s greeted with is the sound of his own echoes, resounding in the large mansion. “Dammit,” he says to himself when he can’t find her. Every passage seems to introduce another line of doors. Bellamy isn’t sure how a house can be such a labyrinth. Somehow this place is bigger than the Ark, but it didn’t appear to be so outside. “Clarke, come on! We need to get back to the ship! There’s something not right about—”

_One, two, three, one, two, three._

Bellamy freezes. When the music starts up again, he doesn’t know what to do. There’s a part of him – a small part – that thinks he may be able to see his Mom again. Sure, he knows logically it’s not real. He also knows chasing down hallucinations has never been good to him in the past. He thinks of his first days on the Ground, begging Jaha to kill him.

Then he thinks of the hallucinations he had on the Ring after Praimfaya.

Bellamy shakes his head. He doesn’t think of those anymore. He can’t. It’s too painful.

Especially when she’s running around her, somewhere, lost.

The music grows and it’s coming from down the hall, where the moonlight can’t reach and the shadows paint the doors. It’s eerie in a way that makes him hesitate, even when he knows that it’s all in his mind. Making his way to the door, Bellamy frowns. The tempo is much faster and the shadows around him cloak him in a darkness that makes his hair stand on end. There’s something ominous about this room and a part of him doesn’t want to open the door.

But what if he saw his mother again?

What if he had the family he dreamt of his entire life? A life that he read about in books, stories of people who would do anything for the ones he loved. Sure, he had family now. More family than he ever expected to be graced with. But there was a hole in his heart that his mother left the day she was floated.

Bellamy doesn’t think it’ll go away. People leave, but their imprints on your soul do not.

Cracking the door open, Bellamy peers inside the room. It’s vast, much larger than the ballroom he danced with his mother with. The only light is a few candles, so close to the end of their wicks that they barely give off any light at all. The ground is barely visible, the darkness shrouded over the room as the curtains are drawn.

Except he can see the figures moving about. Instead of moonlight, they’re dripping in candlelight, their forms moving with an aggression not seen in the other room. The piano is sharp, staccato, and vicious. He can hear the clacking of shoes against the ground.

“Dance with me.”

The words are final. Aggressive. Commanding. Bellamy looks up and sees Octavia standing before him, red paint dripping down her face as if it were blood. She has the armor of Wonkru clad against her chest and he realizes that there’s aren’t curtains across the windows.

There are bars and cement.

He feels claustrophobia hit him. Octavia leans forward, her hand out. There’s dirt caked under her fingernails and she looks exactly as she was in the bunker.

He doesn’t take her hand. He can’t.

He’s back in the Pit, his sister looking on as she sentences him to a death that she is more than capable to stop. “No,” he states, taking a step backwards. “How are you even here, O? You should be on the—”

“That wasn’t a request.” She states, grabbing his hand and yanking him forward.

The candles flicker, the light harsh and eerie. Bellamy can barely see the whites of the eyes of those around him, the steady beat of boots against the floor resounding to the ominous track. Octavia takes his hand in hers and pulls him backwards with her so they fall in line with the rest of the Wonkru soldiers moving around them.

Bellamy wants to pull away from Octavia, but her grip is stronger than he can manage. So instead they move around each other, off beat like they have been since he came back from the sky. “You scared of me, big brother?” Octavia asks him, her words in that harsh way he still hadn’t gotten used to.

Bellamy doesn’t answer, but that seems to be enough. They move, step after step, spin after spin. “What you did was wrong,” Bellamy says as the storm of footsteps of Wonkru pound around him. “You forced everyone into a war that destroyed the earth.”

“No good choices,” Octavia says. “So it’s only okay when you and Clarke perform what needs to be done?”

“Burning down the hydrofarm did not need to be done!” Bellamy cries. “You took away their food source so that they would fight for you. You crushed their spirits so they would follow you. After all the stories we went over, all the tales I told you, how is that what you became?”

“Hypocrisy is a good look on you, big brother. I remember three hundred people who were sent to _protect_ us who you killed. Three hundred people who volunteered to die because the Ark was running out of air because you destroyed the radio that would’ve let them know the Earth was survivable. How does your sins weigh less than mine?”

“They _don’t_!” Bellamy shouts.

No one stops dancing. _One, two, three_. _One, two, three_.

“I see their faces, O. I see the people I’ve had a hand in killing. I’ve seen how your choices can affect everyone you touch. I have begged for forgiveness and quite frankly, I don’t know if I will ever earn. But the fact is, I am trying to make the world one where people don’t needlessly have to die! Where that isn’t even an option! I came back to the Ground thinking we’d finally have peace, only to find you had weaponized fear and were killing your own people for sport!”

“It was to keep them in line!”

“You turned the Bunker into your own gladiator pits. For the first time, you had power over people and you used it to break them.”

“They shoved me under the floor!” Octavia shouts, her eyes glistening with tears. She doesn’t let go of him, but for the first time, he stops resisting her. “They told me my existence was illegal! They destroyed any chance I had at a life!”

“The people in the Bunker didn’t, O.” Bellamy says, his eyes tearing up. “The Grounders. The other people on the Ark. They didn’t put you under the floor. They didn’t float Mom.”

“That’s right,” Octavia says, breaking away. “You did all that.”

Bellamy stops. Figures continue to dance around them, the tempo picking up. He can feel the blood in his ears, almost to the point where he can’t hear the music anymore.

Bellamy _feels_. Pieces of him shatter and others stitch together and he isn’t sure how that is. He feels the weight of all the people he’s killed, he feels the despair of watching his mom be executed into space. He sees the terror on Octavia’s face when she’s arrested and he sees the blood on his hands as he looks at the dead Grounders he killed who trusted him.

Then again.

He sees the delinquents rushing to him when filled with the fear of the ground. He feels Octavia’s fists against his face as she screams at him, Lincoln’s body still in his mind. He sees Clarke hold his hand, insisting on forgiveness. He sees his family in the Ark, holding his arms as he tries to hold back tears that will not stop. He feels the change, the love, the pain.

Everything and all at once.

“Will you ever accept what you’ve done, O? Your own choices? Or will I always be the one you turn to for blame?” Bellamy asks, his words barely above the music.

Octavia stops moving, but for the first time, so do all of Wonkru around them. The music plays on. “What did you say, big brother?”

“I will never be enough for you.” Bellamy says, his eyes watering. “All I ever wanted was you to be safe. To have more than what the Ark gave you. But I will never not be the person who killed Lincoln to you, even though I didn’t pull the trigger. Didn’t sentence him to death. I will never not be the person who killed Mom to you. All you see when you look at me are the lives I didn’t save. I will never be enough for you as I am.”

Octavia doesn’t respond.

“All I wanted was for you to be safe.” Bellamy says again, lifting his hand and bringing it up to her cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from yourself.”

Octavia looks as thought she wants to say something. She opens her mouth, but then he no longer feels his fingers against her cheek.

The candles start to snuff one by one, wisps of smoke wafting in the air.

Like a candle, she goes out.

***

Clarke wipes her cheeks. “Bellamy?” She calls, but she can’t help but keep her voice hushed as she wanders the mansion.

For some reason she’s cold. Even with her jacket and being indoors, a chill settles in her bones. Her hair hasn’t even dried out yet, it still drips onto the ground, as if she’s still wandering amongst the rain. Holding her arms closer to herself, Clarke peers around a corner. “Bellamy, where are you!”

He doesn’t answer. Clarke wants to get out of the mansion. She no longer cares about the rain, she wants to find Bellamy and get as far away as possible. So when the music starts up again, she can’t help but close her eyes and wish that she was anywhere else but there.

It’s lighter than before. The tempo is quick and peppy, filling a place in her heart with light. Clarke turns around at the door in question it’s wafting behind. The plinking of the piano is enough to draw her in, missing the feeling of having her dad around. Clarke tries hard not to think of him too much, because she knows the ache of when he left is still as prevalent as ever. But even such, she can’t help but open the door without much thought, with the mere idea that she’d just get a small amount of space with him.

Except when she does, the ballroom is filled with light. It’s as if the sun was out, but with the tint of the moon. Everything is drenched in silver and people flit about. Men lift the women in the air and they toss their heads back as if they’re having the time of their lives, only to regroup in their arms.

“You and I never really got to talk on the Ground.”

When Clarke whirls around, Wells stands before her, his hand out and a warm smile on his face. Eyes widening, Clarke rushes toward him. “Wells,” she breathes when she throws herself against him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her once he steadies himself.

Clarke breathes him in, the music filling joy in her heart. “If I was a gambling man, I’d say you missed me.” He laughs, pulling away from her. “Shall we?” He asks, tone bright.

Clarke can’t argue with him, even if she knows it isn’t real. She can’t deny her best friend anything. All she wanted was more time with him. She just wanted to hear his voice, to hold his hand, and to speak to him one last time. That was all taken from them. Taken from them by someone she couldn’t even hold against.

The two move with the beat of the music, people around them laughing as they sway together. “I knew we’d meet again,” Wells says, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I always knew there would be a place where the two of us could be happy. Where we could be content.”

Clarke rests her cheek against him. “I miss you so much, Wells.” She says, unable to stop the tears.

Clarke isn’t used to having her emotions this close to the surface. She was always able to push them down deep inside her so that she doesn’t show anyone when she breaks. It’s been one of her strengths – and also one of her curses. It’s odd to not care about that right now. Instead, Clarke lets the tears falls. “I wish you were still here.”

“I am here, Clarke.” He smiles, pulling back a bit so she can see him. “Don’t you feel me against you?”

“I do,” Clarke breathes against him. “But I know that this isn’t real. Please don’t try and convince me it is. It’ll make it more painful when you go.”

Wells makes a noise. It’s the one he makes when he doesn’t agree with her, but knows not to push it. Even after all these years, she knows it well. She first encountered it when she lamented that no one would ever like her after a soft rejection by a girl in the alpha station. He was always with her.

“I wish you were still here.” Clarke says, holding him as close as possible. “To tell me when I’m going down a wrong path. To help me through things. I hold my hand when I feel alone.”

“I can still do that, can’t I?” Wells says, lifting their hands up in front of her face. “Even if you can’t feel it here,” he squeezes her hand. “I know you can feel it here.” He uses his free one to place it over her heart.

“Not always,” she admits. It’s a dark thought. A thought you don’t say. But Wells isn’t there and neither is anyone else, so Clarke thinks it’s okay. “Sometimes I feel alone.”

“Are you, though?” He asks, the melody slowing. “There’s someone in this very building right now, calling for you.”

Clarke pauses. She can hear a faint call of her name in the distance. “Bellamy,” she breathes, her eyes wide. “I need to find him, make sure he’s okay—”

When she moves to go back toward the door, Wells holds her. “I never thought you two would be the ones.”

That stops Clarke in her tracks. “I’m sorry?”

Wells laughs. “You two were always at each other’s throats. You were never not arguing. I thought the two of you would kill each other way more than fall in love.”

Clarke pulls away. “I’m sorry, what?”

Wells frowns. “Clarke, come on. I’m your best friend. Let’s not play games here.”

“Wells, I am not—”

Wells snorts. “Come here, you idiot.” He says, taking her hand. She resists for a moment, but it’s hard not to join him because he’s _Wells_ and he’s standing right in front of her. “I thought you and I were done lying to each other.”

“Wells, I—”

“Since when did Clarke Griffin become afraid?” He asks, his eyes as genuine as she’s ever seen them. “The Clarke I remember never backed down.”

“Wells, this has nothing to do with fear. This has to do with you reading into something that doesn’t—”

“When have you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, Clarke?” Wells asks. “When have you allowed someone to see you at your lowest, to see you when you’re needing a friend. When have you ever allowed that?”

“With you.” Clarke says. “You are—”

“And Bellamy.”

When he says her name it feels like it has weight. She almost recoils at the sound of it, because it feels accusing and monumental at the same time. “Wells—”

“Clarke, I know you. I know when you’re getting defensive. I know when you’re retreating, because you’re afraid. You’ve faced _war_ , Clarke. You’ve faced so much. Why are you so afraid to face happiness?”

Clarke sucks in a breath. She allows herself to be moved around for a few moments, while she attempts to catch up with what he’s saying. “Wells,” she starts, because even saying his name grounds her. “I don’t deserve to be happy.”

“What?”

“It isn’t that I’m afraid of Bellamy rejecting me.” Clarke admits, her darkest thoughts running rampant in her mind. “There’s just so many things that I’ve done that have made it so I don’t deserve to be happy. I’ve killed, I’ve murdered, I’ve made the wrong choice. There’s no room in my life for happiness. Bodies fill every space I can see.”

Wells doesn’t respond right away to that. His silence is deafening to Clarke, leading her down a road that she hasn’t been in a while. The people she slaughtered, the lives that stopped because of her hand, she feels them on her.

Then he speaks.

“Did you wanted to murder them?”

It isn’t the question that she expects. Peering up at him, she asks, “What?”

“Let’s think about this logically. Atom. Mt. Weather. All the people you killed. Did you go into it, wanting them to die?”

“No,” Clarke says, aghast. “Atom, I couldn’t save him. I begged Cage to let my people go. I tried _so hard_ not to kill them—”

“Stop bathing in the blood of those who’ve died. If I have one regret, it’s that I’m not there to tell you to snap out of it. You deserve happiness, Clarke. Even if you don’t believe it, I’m here to believe it for you.”

“Wells—”

“Clarke, please.” Wells says, putting his hand on the back of her head. He pulls her close and she feels safe, protected from the world around her. “I only want you to be happy. It’s all I ever wanted. You deserve it, even if you don’t believe it.”

“I can’t love Bellamy, Wells.” Clarke whispers, shutting her eyes.

“Why not?”

“Everyone I love dies.” She says.

“Clarke,” Wells sighs. “That’s not true—”

“Is it, though?” Clarke asks, pulling away from him. “Really? You’re standing there, telling me people I love don’t die? _You?_ ”

“Clarke—”

“What about Finn? What about Lexa?” Clarke asks. “I-If I love Bellamy, if I say something? I may as well put a gun to his head.”

Wells makes a face at her back, his eyes heartbroken. “Clarke,” he starts, his words sad. “You deserve love.”

“I don’t—”

“Please don’t talk about my best friend that way.” He says, reaching out and pulling her close once more. “I can’t bear to hear it.”

He holds her until he fades away.

Then she’s in the room alone.

***

Bellamy is over it.

He’s over… whatever this is. He sprints through the halls of the mansion, calling Clarke’s name as loud as he can. So when he see’s her, see the clips of her jacket and the short tuft of blonde hair, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, _Clarke_.” He says. “Where the hell have you been, and have you been seeing some strange stuff because—”

When she turns around, Bellamy hesitates.

Because he knows Clarke.

They’ve felt out of sync, he hasn’t been able to read her like he used to, but he _knows_ Clarke.

This isn’t her.

She shrugs off her jacket and he sees the scars lining her body, just as he had when they reached the entrance of the mansion. “Bellamy,” she says and his name is like a prayer on her lips.

He can feel himself falling. He can feel himself moving toward her, as if this new planet has a gravitational pull he can’t explain.

She smiles at him, lifting her hand to reach for him. “It’s time, Bellamy.”

Bellay doesn’t move. “Time for what?”

“Time to talk.” She responds, her grin stretching. “After all, we never said what we needed to say, didn’t we? I think we need to discuss.”

Before he can answer her, he hears the piano in the distance. “It isn’t you.” He says, not moving.

Clarke looks at him. “It’s the only me you’re brave enough to face.” She moves toward him, her arms graceful and steps smooth. When she reaches him, he can see her scars in the moonlight, shimmering as if a reminder of every way he’s failed her. “I never thought you were one to be afraid to speak your mind.” She says to him, bringing her arm up to him.

“You’re not the real Clarke.” He says, his voice wavering. Even though he knows it to be true – he knows _his_ Clarke and everything she is, he feels himself falter. “You are nothing more than a hallucination.”

Clarke lifts an eyebrow. “Is that what you tell yourself when you can’t bare to look at me? When you see me in your dreams?”

Bellamy tells himself that it isn’t Clarke. But he sees her standing before him and he thinks of every time on the Ring that he wished she was there.

Bellamy wonders.

He wonders what he would’ve done if she was there with him. All those years on the Ring. He spent his time seeing her around every corner, feeling her in every shadow. “Please go away.” He states, but even he doesn’t believe himself.

A low, melancholy note plays one the piano as she grabs his hand. It’s cold and soft, and he tells himself it’s not real.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want Clarke like this.

Bellamy thought about Clarke more than he cares to admit on the Ark. She was with him every day, haunting his dreams and cursing his days. She pulls him close, smiling coyly at him. “Afraid to look me in the eyes, Bellamy?” She asks and Bellamy doesn’t have a response. “Is it because you’re afraid this isn’t real or is it because you know you betrayed me in my final hours?”

Bellamy stills. “What?”

“You promised to take care of Madi. You promised to keep you safe.” Clarke says, her face twisting suddenly, into something contemptuous and vile. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand what the Flame does to people.”

“Clarke—”

“Don’t ‘Clarke’ me!” Clarke shouts. “You knew how I felt about the Flame, you know why I didn’t want Madi to have it, and yet you left me there, chained. Waiting for her to descend into darkness.”

Bellamy recoils. “I was trying to save you—”

“And yet you killed me.” She snaps. “You took every ounce of trust I had for you and you made sure it evaporated.”

“Clarke—”

“I hope you’re proud. Earth is still destroyed and Madi is burdened with the Commanders before her.”

Bellamy doesn’t know how to respond. Instead he holds her, the weight of his sins dragging him to the ground. She pulls him close to him, looking up. “What sort of excuses did you tell yourself when you left me to burn alive on Earth?” She asks.

Bellamy freezes. He doesn’t know how to respond, all the nightmares and hallucinations he felt on the Ring coming back to him in full force. He sees her the way she used to come to him on the Ark, covered in burns, her golden hair marred and black. Clarke morphs in front of him until he recoils, her skin covered in blisters. “I bear it, so you don’t have to.” Clarke states, tears welling in her eyes.

Bellamy takes a step back. “Clarke, please.” He begs. “You have to know I didn’t want to leave you. You have to know that we waited as long as we could.”

“I was outside, Bellamy. I felt the flames against my skin. The scars on my body were caused by you,” she says, a tear sliding down her cheek. She moves toward him, strides quick. “I have become this, because you were never strong enough to stop it. You did this to me.”

“I _know,_ Clarke.” Bellamy says, words breaking. “And I’ll never be able to make up for it. You have to know, you _have_ to know. If I knew you were alive, I would’ve found a way back down quicker. I would’ve found my way back to you.”

“If only there was a way you could’ve heard me.” Clarke states. She lifts her hand and a radio is somehow in it. Bringing it to her lips, she stares at him, skin angry and red. “Bellamy, if you can hear me, where are you?” The words are broken and scared. “I thought you were going to make it back. I thought you cared. Please, Bellamy. _Please_. Have you forgotten about me? Have you?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I didn’t know.”

“I died so you could live,” Clarke continues, taking another step toward him. “Was that not enough for you?”

***

He stands before her, his arms tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth.

Clarke hears the music and it’s growing. “Bellamy,” she breathes, eyes filling with tears. “Bellamy, please.”

He doesn’t respond to her. Instead, he kneels in front of her, his eyes boring into her like scalding her soul. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even try to fight against the gag in his throat. Instead, he kneels before her, waiting for death. “Bellamy, I’m so sorry.” She cries, her chest heaving.

Clarke can hear the music around her. It swells and grows and she reaches out to him, but he doesn’t reach to her. “Bellamy, please.”

He merely stares at her.

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to.

The pain and anger in his gaze are enough to make her tears fall, every ache in her heart echoing louder.

He stares at her with the gaga in his mouth. He stares at her, his eyes questioning everything she ever knew. “Bellamy, I—”

A bolt of lightning hits around her.

Clarke jumps back, her eyes wide.

Rain falls around her. She frowns, bringing her hands up to her face, trying to understand what’s happening. Clarke runs, the rain pounding against her skin.

There are trees all around. The rain falls in a steady beat, as if a piano playing a melody. _One, two, three. One, two, three._

Somehow the house is gone, and she feels nothing but the rain against her skin. The world is dark and she’s shaking, colder than she’s ever been. Bringing her hands out in front of her, she sees them trembling and tinted blue. “Wait,” she breathes. Whirling around, she tries to find the mansion, but it’s nowhere in sight. Her jacket is cast off and long gone, Clarke in nothing but her tanktop and jeans, completely soaked to her core.

A figure stands a few yards away, his back to her. She runs up to him, her mind filled with nothing more than escaping this place.

When he turns around, she stops.

_“Bellamy_.”

She breathes, watching his broken expression at her.

Clarke doesn’t know what to do. He’s standing before her, his eyes filled with tears, hands out as if ready to dance with someone.

_“Clarke.”_

He states, the word breathless and spanning lifetimes across the universe.

Clarke sniffs, looking around her.

There aren’t walls around them, there isn’t a ceiling above her. There is nothing but her, the earth, and this hallucination. She looks for the other Bellamy, on his knees on the ground, but he’s gone. The rain pours on her and she clenches.

“What do you want from me?” She cries at the hallucination, who draws close to her. “I never should’ve left you to Octavia, I know that! I never should’ve left Polis without you! I should’ve fought for you, even when I was angry with you! Because that’s what we do! We are there for each other, even when we hate each other! Is that what you want to hear?”

The figure moves closer. “Clarke,” He says, eyes wide. “Please, forgive me.”

Clarke feels herself slipping. She feels herself shifting in a way she can’t explain. Music begins to play again, a slow beat that sounds so familiar, words drifting in and out of the thunder and lightning that cracks around them.

“ _Moonlight and loves songs never out of date / Hearts full of passion, jealousy, and hate / Woman needs man, and man must have his mate / That no one can deny / It’s still the same old story / A fight for love and glory / A case of do or die.”_

Clarke hears the words, shaking her head. “What do you want from me?” She cries, eyes wild and body stilled. “Do you want me to say that I love you?” Clarke shouts, feeling as wild as the world around them. “Is that what you want?”

“Clarke, don’t you know what I want?” Bellamy asks. “After all this time, don’t you know? I didn’t mean to leave you, I didn’t mean to hurt you! If I could’ve stayed on Earth with you after Praimfaya, that’s what I would’ve chosen. Do you understand? Do you understand that I _choose_ you. I choose you in every way a person can choose someone else!””

Moving closer to him, rain pouring all around him, Clarke grabs a fistful of his jacket and screams, “I love you, idiot! Will that make this stop? Will that make this all go away?” She asks. His eyes widen, as if he can’t believe her saying it. But Clarke reminds herself that he’s nothing more than a hallucination. So she continues. “I have loved you since we first reached the Ground. Since I saw you tirelessly trying to save everyone. I loved you in Mount Weather, to the point where Lexa used it against me. I loved you in Polis, staying there so our treaty may stay in tact. I loved you at the end of the world, waiting for the fire to wash over me as you were able to live. _I love you,_ Bellamy. Even if you don’t love me.”

The man before her stills. He stares at her as if he doesn’t believe that she’s real. He reaches out, grabbing her arms and she recoils. He feels so solid against her, his weight pressing against her, different from the weight she always felt.

“Don’t love you?” He asks, incredulous. “ _Don’t love you?_ Clarke, do you understand what it took to leave you on Earth?”

“Nothing!” She shouts. “Because I am nothing to you! I destroy _everything_ I touch!”

_“Nothing!”_ He shouts.

It’s angry. It’s incredulous. It’s everything she’s afraid to make herself feel.

Bellamy stalks over to where she is as reaches out, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her close. He presses his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her so that there’s barely any space between them. “Clarke,” he breathes against her lips when they finally come up for air. “You have to have known.”

“Known what?” She asks, bringing her hands up and reaching for the back of his head and pulling him close. She dives in for a kiss, deep and longing, not pulling away until she can’t breathe any further.

“Known how I felt.”

“No,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “I-I can’t… this can’t.” She pulls away, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s not real. You can’t say these things to me because when it’s over it’ll be painful. I can’t have this be another hallucination, it’s not fair.”

The figure pulls back. “Hallucination?”

She tries not to decipher the confusion in his tone. Instead, she pulls him closer, breathing against his neck. “All I’ve ever wanted was you,” she breathes, gripping him close. Her fingers tangle within his hair and she feels him on her. “Since the Ground. Since everything. I was too afraid to say it. And now we’re here, in the same house and somehow I still can’t find you? We’re still separated! And now I’m standing here, arguing with a ghost.”

“Clarke, I—"

Clarke grips his shirt, pulling him closer. Something hits her back and she feels the ground against her, Bellamy’s weight on top of her. There’s a part of her that screams at her to stop – to find Bellamy and escape this hell house. “No,” she says against him as he presses himself against her. He stops, eyes worried. “I need to find Bellamy. I need to make sure he’s okay. I can’t have this in only a moment. I don’t want just a moment. I don’t want an evening of this and then to hurt for the rest of my life. Please, let me go.”

The man on top of her stops. He looks at her with an expression she can’t quite understand. He moves to his elbows, eyes wide at her. “Clarke?”

The word is small, broken.

Real.

Clarke looks up at him. _“Bellamy?”_

She asks, tears welling in her eyes.

There’s only a moment. A moment when the two of them pause. A moment when they figure that the other is who they claim to be.

A moment when the ghosts of their past swirl around them, demanding to be known.

“You’re real.” Clarke breathes, pulling Bellamy closer. “You’re not a ghost.”

“So are you,” Bellamy states, clearly unsure of what to do. “You’re Clarke.”

“Yes,” She says, words wavering. “You’re Bellamy.”

Bellamy nods, perched on his elbows atop of her. “Yeah.”

Clarke nods. “You heard that I love you.”

“Yes.” Clarke closes her eyes, tears leaking out.

She can’t look at him. She can’t see everything she’s convinced herself she doesn’t feel. She can’t—

“I love you too, Clarke.”

Clarke opens her eyes to look at the man above her. He is open, vulnerable, everything Bellamy wasn’t when he first got to the Ground. He hoists himself on his elbows, eyes soft. “I’ve loved you for so many years, it hurts.”

“Bellamy,” she breathes.

Gripping the back of his head, Clarke pulls him closer. The rain pours down around them, Bellamy relaxing his weight on hers as their lips meet, their hands tangle in hair. “This is everything I wanted,” Bellamy says against her skin. “Everything I was afraid to ask for.”

“All I wanted was you,” Clarke says before yanking him closer. “Always. You’re so good, Bellamy.”

“Clarke—”

She moves her hands down his back, hoisting him closer. There’s too much space and not enough space.

Rain falls around them.

A piano plays in the distance.

***

“What now?”

Clarke turns to face Bellamy, her eyes filled with what he’d describe as hope. Bellamy reaches out, palms against her cheeks, pulling her closer and into a kiss. As soon as their lips part, Bellamy can’t help but smile at her, softer than he’s felt in years.

“What now?” He repeats, unable to stop the grin that stretches across his face. “Whatever the hell we want.”

Clarke weakly slaps against his chest, eyes shining. “Come on—”

“And I want you.”

When he says it, Clarke stills. She looks at him, eyes filled with hope and longing. It was everything he wanted on the Ark and everything he never thought he’d have. “And I want you.” She says to him.

Bellamy smiles. He pulls her closer and draws her into a kiss, a fire lighting his bones.

Maybe they’ll make it after all.

“Then I think we’ll be okay,” he says against her hair.

“Together?” She asks, looking up, her eyes hopeful.

Bellamy smiles at as the rain fades off, nothing more than a memory.

“Together.”

A piano plays in the distance. He holds her hand, and it feels like home. “Care for this dance?” He asks coyly, a smile teasing at the corner of his eyes.

She can’t help but roll her eyes at him, but lets him pull her close. She still can’t believe that he’s here and holding her. A part of her wonders if it is the hallucination, but she knows in her heart, this is real. Bellamy smiles down at her, soft and loving. She never thought she’d have anyone look at her like that again, and yet here he is. He dips his head down and Clarke can’t help but whisper, “We’re back, bitches” against his skin and he groans. She giggles into his neck.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he laughs.

“Sick of me yet?” She asks, wondering how a person could be this happy. How the lightness in her chest makes it feel like she may float away.

“Never,” he says, bringing his head down again. “I want to spend eons with you, Clarke Griffin.”

Pulling her close, Bellamy closes the gap.

Maybe they will get it. Maybe the Universe will stop separating them. Maybe it’s done separating those that love each other.

At the very least, it’s an excellent start.

**Author's Note:**

> A.N: Happy Big Bang! I find it hilarious that I was like ‘Imma do a Day Trip 2.0, even though no one really cares’ and then the show was like ‘fuck you, Day Trip 2.0!’ You get me, show.
> 
> I really wanted the Waltz to show off the various form of love in their lives: starting with parental, sibling, and then romantic. And honestly, I could’ve added a million people, but I won’t do that to you! And the end? They wake everyone up, Spacekru doesn’t act like petulant mean girls, and they live happily ever after.
> 
> I don’t make the rules. But god, I wish I did.
> 
> <3 <3 <3


End file.
